Following the announcement that the Shell Museum of Decay & Decomposition may make a come back, I started a poem where words were represented by the number one and deeds by the figure zero.
This poem, now unfinished, translates into English as :
Once in time
We each stood there
Aside the waters
Breathing air.
But fate moved on
And to survive
We each now dream
To stay alive.
For in the tempts
And tortures past
A thread was sewn
That did not last;
Now slipped from grasp
All’s out-of-hand
In shifting waves
Thjrough timeless sand.
Mere dust to some
That rusts create –
The rhythm of a rhyme,
Strong evidence
That others feel
Of finity, of time.
Dreams of having a tail , and wings, and flying through the air are common, especially for one coach I once met who spent each night with her head in the clouds”
LITTLE PEOPLE BOOKS. Coachy
So begins the story of the little coach who always wanted to be an air bus.
“Look at the sky and tell me why I’m not up there. I’ve got all the thinking skills, the driving skills, the determination, the fight, but every night, parked outside your hangar, I look up at the stars and they are still so far.”
The rocket, who knew the ups and downs of the space routine, grinned a little at the coach’s approach. “Do you want to fly more than anything on Earth?” asked the rocket.
“Yes rocket, more than anyone realises” replied the Coach.
The rocket drumed its fins, closed a few hatch doors and raised itself to its full launch height, saying, “I’ll see what I can do. I have a few friends in high places.”
For any four wheeled driverless passenger carrier like Coachy the coach, life’s usually sewn up from the factory gates onwards, but by luck, Coachy got her first posting to the hospitality wing of the Xtra-Green Space Mission [X-GSM] where she would meet, greet and transport visiting aliens from as far a field as WASP-33b. But, as a vehicle produced to master self control, she had her eyes on the great Space race.
During her charge time that night, she imagined flying over the city’s Giant Togu Towers during harvest time and sipping on cloud water.
One day, out there,
Above the sky so blue,
Space is waiting, waiting, for a Spacebus, like you.
